


I told you so

by Iris_Celeno



Category: Code Black (TV)
Genre: Additional Scene, Asra knows her son, Christa knows her TV, F/M, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 20:58:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6024649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iris_Celeno/pseuds/Iris_Celeno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after 1x05, Doctors with Borders.<br/>Asra Hudson is witness to a conversation between Christa and Neal. Pre-romance cuteness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I told you so

**Author's Note:**

> For Neal's background, same headcanon as in my previous story _Truly, madly, deeply_.  
>  Non beta-ed, please forgive any mistake you might find

If she had the luxury of being picky, Asra Hudson would have preferred to breathe the salty air of the ocean or the fresh air of the mountains so close to Los Angeles. For now, she was content with being able to breathe at all, even the stale and artificial atmosphere of the hospital. She wouldn't complain either that she could barely croak instead of speaking, her throat too sore after her extubation. She knew now that nothing could be as terrifying as being unable to exhale, and she swore she'd never forget to be thankful for every gulp of air she'd take.

She shifted her head to the right, finding Peter sound asleep in the chair next to her bed, holding her hand tight. And beyond the glass walls of her hospital room, she could see that Neal was checking papers, probably lab tests, in the gloomy light of the nursing station. She glanced from father to son, and felt happier than she had in more than ten years. Somehow, during her ordeal, the two men she loved more than anything in the world had mended the rift between them. She smiled tenderly at her husband, whose overbearing manners hid incredible amounts of love, then at her son, whose gentle manners hid incredible amounts of strength. It made all the anguish and pain she had endured tonight worth it, she decided.

She heard the brief, discreet ring of the elevator. A slender figure in scrubs stepped in her field of vision a few seconds later. It was one of the residents who had treated her, Dr Christa Lorenson.  
Peter had told her about the younger woman. Asra knew that her husband had been worried sick, had felt helpless and alone. She was already aware that by temper, he had a hard time not being in control. She also could see the depth of his anguish in his eyes when he was sitting with her earlier, in the quarantine zone; and she knew exactly how she'd have felt in his place, if she had seen him slipping away from her. So as soon as they were alone...and after a long embrace, she had enquired about him. She had learned then that thanks to the blond doctor, a man who had lost his wife and a man who feared to lose his could find support in each other and forget their pain for a while. Her husband had realized what Dr Lorenson had done for him and Lawrence Evans when Neil mentioned the latter's broken heart syndrom in front of him. Clever one, and kind young lady, Peter had told his wife afterwards. 

Asra tried to muster her voice to call Dr Lorenson. She wanted to thank her, tell her how much what she had done mattered to her, and she thought she might not have another chance to do it in person before the end of the shift. But at this very moment, Neal lifted his head from his papers and spotted the newcomer. The pleased light in his eyes, his suddenly warm smile, the reflexive way he straightened his back, and a twinge of nervousness in his attitude had her mother antennas tingle. 

“I'm sorry to bother you, Dr.Hudson...” 

“Code black is over, shift isn't,” he offered her, dismissing her concerns. “Even though Dr Taylor allowed me to work here.” 

They were speaking in a low voice, but it echoed loud enough in the empty and silent lobby for her to hear them if she strained her ears. 

“How is your mother doing?” 

Asra swifly closed her eyes, knowing they'd look into her direction. She didn't want to be caught watching them. Yes, she was a meddling mother. No, she wasn't ashamed. 

“Better, thank you.” 

Neal's voice was thick with relief. It sounded clearer and nearer, they must have moved away from the counter. 

“And you?”

Tentatively, Asra opened one lid, then the other after she ensured that their attention was focused elsewhere. Indeed, they were now only a few steps away from her room, just under one of the corridor lights. As for their attention, it was fully focused elsewhere. On each other. Dr.Lorenson was intent on Neal, her blue eyes concerned, and her son's eyes weren't leaving her face. 

“Better, thank you,” he repeated. But he squeezed her shoulder in gratitude.

And let his hand drop immediately, as if it burned. 

“You can joke, it's a good sign indeed,” the blonde smiled, unaware of his reaction.

He smiled back. He was looking at her, she was looking at him, and the silence between them stretched along with Asra's grin. 

“You wanted something,” he finally asked, clearing his throat.

“Yes. It's my last patient. Technically, the first I saw tonight when I was shadowing you, before...you know. Kelly Perkins, 31, severe anemia. She moved to L.A with her husband a few weeks ago. I have her medical history now. She has suffered from many different ailments over the last years. She says the symptoms come and go, but it's been worse than usual since she's here.”

He observed the chart, let out a small whistle.

“Depression, maybe?” he proposed. “Joint pain, headache, insomnia, rashes, chronic fatigue, chest pains...Most of her symptoms can be psychosomatic. The change of environment could explain their aggravation. If she's new in town, isolation could be a factor.”

“She does sound depressed,” Dr.Lorenson said. “But...”

He watched her closely.

“But?”

“But I feel that her physical state is playing on her state of mind, not the opposite. She doesn't strike me as an attention-seeker, either And it's not all in her head, her labs do indicate anemia and proteinuria. I can't put my finger on it, but there's something off with her symptoms...unless I'm too eager to see something that isn't there, of course.”

“Learn to trust your instincts, they're good.”

Dr.Lorenson seemed quite happy with the compliment, her eyes brightened and her cheeks colored slightly. She quickly sobered, though. Neal was still reading the chart, frowning.

“She also had two miscarriages?”

“Yes...why?” she frowned in turn.

Asra loved the way her son's face lit. She often suspected that he was more elated whenever he found the solution to a problem than on Christmas mornings as a child.  
As for his satisfied little smile, it reassured her. Peter had been a demanding father, always expecting more, always expecting better...only because he thought highly of his first-born and believed him able of achieving it. But it hadn't been easy for Neal to grow up under such pressure and she had been afraid it would affect his self-esteem. It had taken time for her son to understand that his father asked for so much because he believed it was in his best interest, and didn't do it against him.

“Did you check her nails? If they're brittle,” he asked. “Did you, or did she at any point, notice a discoloration of her fingers?”

“Discol...Raynaud's phenomenom?” Her blue eyes wide, she was doing the math. “Oh.”

“Yes, 'oh',” he confirmed, handing the chart back to her. “Order some ANA testing, to start with. Schedule an appointment with internal medecine, prescribe iron injections for her anemia until then, and discharge her. ”

“Thank you for your help. If you're right, let's hope it's a milder case,” she finished on a sigh as she took the file. 

“Yes,” he acquiesced. “Let's hope.”

He sounded exhausted all of a sudden. Dr.Lorenson must have thought the same since instead of leaving, she inspected his face for a couple of seconds, tilting her head to one side. Then...

“Although, you're British,” she stated.

Her unexpected remark caused him to raise his brows in surprise.

“I'm well aware,” he answered cautiously.

“When the doctor is British, it's never lupus,” she explained, deadpan. 

Neal gaped at her. Then he laughed, the sweetest sound to a mother's ears. For the first time since he found her on a hospital bed tonight, Asra could detect no trace of concern or tension on his face, and something eased off in her own chest.  
The nurse at the station didn't share her opinion since she shushed him, looking scandalized at his outburst. The two doctors glanced at each other, smiling from ear to ear like two children caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

“I hope I'm not as unpleasant and obnoxious as my famous yet fictional Bristish colleague,” Neal smirked.

“Oh, don't worry. In this respect you're the polar opposite,” the resident chuckled.

She didn't try to flatter him. She wasn't flirting, either. It was obvious because she didn't wait for, didn't check on Neal's reaction. Her eyes were back to studying the chart before she even finished her sentence.

Neal knew that she was sincere, too. First, he seemed absurdly pleased, then his eyes lingered on her and Asra had never seen her son looking at anyone the way he looked at her. _Oh, my darling boy_ , she thought. 

He was still staring at Christa, his expression now absent, when she raised her head to him. 

“Neal...Dr Hudson? Is everything alright?”

He coughed. “Yes. Sorry, my mind blanked. I guess I'm just tired.”

“After what you just went through? Impressive deduction. I hear that the board recruits diagnosticians,” she added, playful, before she began to walk in the direction of the elevator.

He shook his head, amused. “If it's lupus, I might consider applying.”

She was crossing the lobby, and adressed him a last smile over her shoulder.

“Christa,” he suddenly called her back, joining her in long strides.

She turned on her heels, expectantly.

“I...Thank you,” he just said, plunging his hands in his pockets. “You made it easier to make it through today.”

Her hand brushed briefly his upper arm, as if to soothe him. 

“I'm glad, then. You have no idea of how many times you made it easier for me,” she said in confidence, her smile easy and artless.

This time, she left for good and he watched her go, his hand resting distractedly on his arm, where she had touched him. He was still standing there, immobile, well after the elevator doors had closed.

“Neal,” Asra called softly. 

He startled when her voice reached him in the renewed complete silence, and hurried at her side. 

“You're all right?” he murmured so as not to wake his father.

He sat on the other side of the bed. With an effort, Asra extended her hand, stroked the locks around his forehead. She felt very tired again, sleep was hovering near. But there was something she needed to tell him.

“Yes. I'm sorry I put you through this, my darling,” she rasped.

Whenever her son gave her that look of love bordering adoration, all she could see was the sweet little boy he once was. She remembered all the hopes and dreams she had for him back then, how she was trying to imagine what his future would be like when she watched him sleeping, making his first steps, playing outside or doing his homework.  
She had always known he'd make her proud, and he had never failed to. Even when it broke her heart that Peter and their son were at odds, she admired that Neal fought for the life he wanted, for what he aspired to. She had always known he'd find his way in life, because he was strong and he was kind.  
But although there was nothing she wished more, she could only ever hope he'd be truly happy, could only ever hope he'd find the miracle she had found. She could only ever stubbornly believe he would. So, stubbornly believe she did.

“Don't worry about it. You had it harder than any of us. Just get better,” he reassured her, placing a kiss on her hand and holding it tight. 

She began to drift into a comfortable drowsiness, content, with her two men by her side. What her husband called her touch of wickedness was well awake, though, and chose that moment to manifest. She loved her boy, but she just couldn't help herself.

“Neal?”

“Yes, Ma?”

“I told you so,” she pointed as smugly as her hoarse voice allowed her to. 

Her son frowned, at loss, until he suddenly jolted and gawked at her, incredulity written all over his face.

“I'm your _mother_ ,” she added sleepily, by way of an explanation.

She closed her eyes, satisfied. How sweet that she had been right to believe.

 _You'll know the right one, Neal_.

**Author's Note:**

> Out of all my ideas, this one demanded I finish it first and way more quickly than I thought I could. I blame the lack of scenes where Christa/Neal work together lately.  
> I have no medecine consultant, so the whole lupus symptoms/diagnosis certainly requires huge suspension of disbelief, sorry about it.  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
